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Dedicated to Elevating ConsciousnessFri, 16 Feb 2018 21:17:12 +0000en-UShourly1https://wordpress.org/?v=4.9.4Conscious Community™ Magazine is a Chicago-based publication and winner of the Conscious Evolutionaries Wheel of CoCreation Award. Founded in 1979, we are the oldest spiritual magazine in the United States dedicated to elevating consciousness. <br />
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We at Conscious Community Magazine believe that mindful communication can foster positive growth, and we are all co-creators of this world. We feel we are called to play our part elevating the consciousness level of humanity in our communities, our nations, and the world.The Shared Heart- Heartfulness – Conscious Community MagazinecleanepisodicThe Shared Heart- Heartfulness – Conscious Community Magazinespencer@consciouscommunitymagazine.comspencer@consciouscommunitymagazine.com (The Shared Heart- Heartfulness – Conscious Community Magazine)Janae Jean and Spencer SchluterUnify and awaken the masses to their full potential through uplifting, timely, and inspiring communications.The Shared Heart- Heartfulness – Conscious Community Magazinehttp://consciouscommunitymagazine.com/wp-content/uploads/powerpress/dancing_people-New.jpghttp://consciouscommunitymagazine.com/category/conscious-community-magazine/relationships/the-shared-heart/
scschluter@gmail.comConscious Community™ Magazine is a Chicago-based publication and winner of the Conscious Evolutionaries Wheel of CoCreation Award. Founded in 1979, we are the oldest spiritual magazine in the United States dedicated to elevating consciousness.
Our podcast features guests discussing a range of topics related to consciousness, such as spirituality, health, wellness, yoga, numerology, astrology, relationships, organic gardening, animal/pet care, conscious commerce, art, music and more.
We at Conscious Community Magazine believe that mindful communication can foster positive growth, and we are all co-creators of this world. We feel we are called to play our part elevating the consciousness level of humanity in our communities, our nations, and the world. Monthly113618938The Shared Heart – The Three Parts of Relationship Commitmenthttp://consciouscommunitymagazine.com/wp-mep7gjtw-1ye/
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By Joyce and Barry Vissell –

What does it mean to be fully committed in a monogamous relationship? The traditional meaning has to do with focusing your romantic energies only upon your partner. You’re not committed if you have “one foot outside the door,” meaning you’re still available for a romantic relationship with another person. I use the term “romantic” to include sexual relationships as well. You’re committed if you’re sure you’re with the right person, or feel there’s no one else out there who can better fulfill your needs. Most people understand this definition of commitment.

There are more subtle definitions of commitment; you’re also committed when your beloved is clearly number one in your life. This involves not only other people, but also everything else in your life. For example, you’re fully committed when your partner is more important than your career or your hobbies. After Joyce followed me to Nashville, Tenn., and then to Los Angeles for my medical education, I assumed she would follow me to Portland, Ore. for my internship and residency in psychiatry. That assumption, however, proved that my medical career was a higher priority than my marriage. Joyce, meanwhile, had a wonderful job in LA, and chose to stay. Her powerful choice directly confronted my lack of commitment to her. I realized that being with Joyce was more important than my medical career. I told her I would stay in LA, get a job for a year, and then reapply locally to continue my career. That’s all she needed to hear. She quit her job the next day and told me she was joining me in Portland. I even tried to talk her out of her decision, yet she was firm. She just needed to see that I was more committed to her than to my career. Then she could show me that being with me was more important than her job.

Hobbies, sports, and other activities can sometimes get in the way of commitment. I love going on river trips. I especially love sharing them with Joyce. She is very willing to go with me, yet not as many as I would like. I recently hurt her feelings by wanting to go on another river trip by myself, shortly after we returned from one. The pressure I put on her made her feel that the river trip was more important than she was. The truth is, she is vastly more important than any river trip I could ever take. When I show her this, she feels my commitment, and is usually happy to make plans that work for both of us.

Another indication of commitment: you’re fully committed when you have no hidden secrets. An example is an emotional affair, which by definition is a secret relationship that includes nonsexual intimacy. It’s the secrecy that causes the deepest pain and damages the commitment. The same is true for pornography.

A little-known ingredient of commitment is the awareness of your need for your partner’s love. Early in my relationship with Joyce, I was not aware of my need for her. I knew I loved her, and I chose to be with her. “Need” was a four-letter word as negative to me as some other words I need not mention. I clearly told her that I didn’t need her love, which hurt her deeply. Because of this, I was not fully committed to her. Now that I’ve made peace with my inner child who needs Joyce’s love, my commitment to her is more complete.

There’s more to commitment; there’s a higher commitment than to a person. It’s the commitment to your own heart and soul, to God, to your higher self. It’s a commitment to trust in the goodness of the universe, to be aware of the source of the light and energy that you use. Without this commitment, there can be no real commitment to a partner. It’s a bit like the flight attendant’s announcement, “Put your own oxygen mask on first, before you put masks on your children or family members.” You can help no one if you pass out from hypoxia.

We see many couples where one partner feels that they are fully committed to the relationship, and complains that the other partner is not committed to them. All too often, the one “fully committed to the relationship” is not committed enough to themselves, and especially to their highest good. We typically hear, “I’m committed to God (Source, Higher Power, Divine Love, call it what you want), and to my partner.” What’s missing is a commitment to self, which is construed as being “selfish.” I must say, there has to be just enough selfishness in every relationship. Not enough selfishness communicates that your partner is more important than you are. Too much selfishness communicates that You’re more important than your beloved.

What about a relationship that is no longer serving either person? Is it a failed commitment when two persons separate? Not necessarily. Joyce and I believe the only relationship failure is throwing someone out of your heart. Ending a relationship is not a failure. You fail when you close your heart to the goodness of your ex. Sure, you may be angry and disappointed, but villainizing him or her only hurts you. Instead, create a new commitment, a commitment to hold on to the good that was there in the relationship, a commitment to bless this person to find happiness.

So, you could look at commitment as having three parts: 1. Commitment to something bigger than your personal self (the spiritual commitment). 2. Commitment to yourself (the personal commitment). 3. Commitment to your partner (the relationship commitment). When all three are in balance, then there is real commitment.

Joyce & Barry Vissell, a nurse/therapist and psychiatrist couple since 1964, are counselors near Santa Cruz, CA, who are widely regarded as among the world’s top experts on conscious relationship and personal growth. They are the authors of many inspirational books. Visit their website at: SharedHeart.org .

Last week, Barry and I found ourselves at 10pm sitting at a special reserved table at “The Stud,” the 50-year-old first gay bar in San Francisco. First of all, there are a few things you should know about us: we’re quiet “country people” who like to go to bed early. We never drive the 90 minutes to San Francisco, unless it’s to go to the airport for work travel. For the most part, we don’t drink alcohol, or listen to loud music. Our idea of a good time is rafting a wilderness river, and camping all by ourselves in a beautiful spot along the river with our two golden retriever dogs. We were twice the age of everyone else at the bar. The sign on our table, which was lovingly placed in front of the stage said, “Reserved for Johnny’s parents.”

Our son is gay, and he and his partner Isaiah were going to give their first solo two-hour performance. Our son describes himself as a professional circus performer. He also sings and dances, and makes all of the costumes for the performances. He is very talented. A few of his acts would make any parent blush; yet we sat, and we loved and supported him, for he’s doing what he loves in this life. The place was packed with young people, some his high school friends, and everyone loved the show. The MC, WonderDave, liked us, and kept drawing attention to “Johnny’s parents,” and had us stand for a loud cheer.

At the very end of the show, our son took the mic and told everyone how much he loves his parents, and how much it means to him that we came such a long way to support him. He asked us to say something, so Barry took the mic and told everyone that we’re very proud of our son. Everyone cheered! As people were standing to leave, a nicely dressed woman in her late 20s approached us with her female partner. She was crying as she said to us, “Could I please have a hug, so I can experience what it might be like to have parents who are proud of me? My parents rejected me when I came out as a lesbian.” We gave her a big, long hug, and told her how proud we were of her. We hugged her partner too, who told us that her parents had rejected her as well.

When we walked into the bar, the co-owner had told us how happy she was that we were there, as we were the first parents to come to their child’s show. She further told us that her parents called her the “black sheep of the family,” when she came out as gay years ago. To this day, even though she’s very successful, they won’t have much to do with her. We reached out to hug her, and tell her we’re proud of her, and she started to cry, so much was she needing that parental love. She later wrote a Facebook post saying how much it meant to her that we were there and had given her loving parental energy.

The LGBTQ community needs our love and support. Their parents have rejected many of them, and it’s shocking to see how our current presidential administration is treating them. These people are beautiful, unique human beings, many with awesome talents and gifts to give the world. We’re all different in some ways, and they just happen to be different in their sexual orientation.

I believe it’s important for every parent to keep in their heart the possibility that their child might one day “come out” to them. Barry and I were totally surprised when our son came out to us when he was 19. We had no idea. He was an amazing athlete and played middle blocker, his 6’5” height a great advantage on the school’s championship volleyball team. All year he played volleyball, was a river guide, and swam in the cold ocean for hours. More significantly, he had several steady girlfriends. He came out to us the day his girlfriend of one year had just left to go back home. It was a huge surprise when he looked at me and said, “Mama, I’m gay.” Fortunately for me I did the right thing; I reached out and hugged him, and told him I loved him. Then I had him go to Barry, and he was shaking as he told his father. So many young men are rejected by their fathers. Barry reacted exactly as I had, then we both held him, and let him speak. My strong advice to parents of all ages is to try to be prepared and react with love, for how you react in that one instance may determine your relationship from then on. If you didn’t react well, you can apologize to your child and begin anew.

One young man who was a very religious Baptist told us that his father rejected him right away, and he could never be close to him again. Even worse, his minister rejected him and told him he needed to get counseling to change, or else leave the church. It took years for this man to heal from both of these experiences. He never saw his father again, and never walked back into a church.

Parents who reject their “different” child are really missing out. Our son has brought so much growth to our hearts, and so much understanding of differences. If we had rejected him nine years ago when he came out to us, we would have missed a whole new world. He would still have carried on with his life, his marriage, and his performing, yet we wouldn’t have been a part of it all. We left the gay bar at midnight with a skip to our step. The performance had been fun, and even more meaningful and joyful was loving and supporting our son.

Joyce & Barry Vissell, a nurse/therapist and psychiatrist couple since 1964, are counselors near Santa Cruz, CA, who are widely regarded as among the world’s top experts on conscious relationships and personal growth. They are the authors of many inspirational books. SharedHeart.org.

Okay, it’s a cute word, but what does it mean to have a REAL relationship, a relationship with substance? What does it take to have a relationship that not only lasts, and also thrives with a loving connection? From growing with my beloved of 52 years, Joyce, and from our work with couples for 42 years, here are our seven primary ingredients for REALationship. All of our couple’s retreats include these elements. Of course, there are many more ingredients, but if you sincerely understand these basic seven, the others will come along quite naturally.

1.Appreciation. It’s great to give compliments, to acknowledge the things your partner does for you, or how they look. However, a deeper appreciation includes the soul/spiritual qualities of your mate, like kindness, generosity, joy, childlike innocence, or open-heartedness. Appreciate who they are as well as what they do. Acknowledge the biggest gifts your beloved has brought into your life. This is real appreciation. Do it daily. I love Joyce’s deep sensitivity, a quality that I had criticized during our early years. Her sensitivity has allowed me to become more sensitive. Her ease of feeling her feelings has helped me to more quickly feel my own feelings.

2.Vulnerability. This is the fast-track to REALationship. We’re taught to hide our vulnerability and, instead, only show our strength. If I was vulnerable, and showed my fear as a child growing up in a tough neighborhood of Brooklyn, the other kids would pick on me. Hiding my vulnerability kept me safe on the streets, but didn’t work very well in my marriage. Joyce feels especially close to me when I ask for her emotional support, when I admit to fear, when I let her know how much I need her. It’s the times when I’m the most vulnerable that she sees my true strength as a human being, and her vulnerability with me lets me know how important I am in her life.

3.Inner parent, inner child. As much as we’d like to think we’re all grown up, there’s still a small child part of us that needs to be acknowledged. Our inner child gets scared and needs love and attention from the inner parent of our partner. Ignoring your inner child is guaranteed to get you in trouble with your mate. I remember one time when I got off from a particularly difficult phone call, and I felt shaken. My inner child desperately needed comforting from Joyce. Instead of recognizing this basic need, I started ordering Joyce to do things. I unconsciously traded vulnerability for irritability. Luckily, my wise wife recognized a suffering little boy hiding behind the irritability, and she asked in a soothing voice, “Barry, are you needing a hug right now?” A humbled little voice squeaked out of me, “Yes.”

4.Sharing hurt feelings. Getting our feelings hurt by a loved one is unavoidable. This is a corollary to accepting our inner child. Many of us either don’t recognize when our feelings are hurt, or don’t express the hurt feelings we do recognize. Instead, we shut down, closing our heart, avoiding the possibility of confrontation. Or, we get angry and retaliate. Both of these approaches erode the love bond. Joyce, being sensitive to her feelings, easily recognizes when I’ve done something careless, and immediately lets me know. I, on the other hand, have spent years hiding my inner child, and consequently hiding my hurt feelings, mostly from myself. I’m getting better at recognizing my hurt feelings, but I still often cover my vulnerability with anger. “You hurt me, then I’ll hurt you” is almost a reflex. The following sentence is our goal: “I trust that you didn’t mean to hurt me when you said or did that, yet it did hurt me.”

5. Responsibility. REALationship requires that you take responsibility for your actions. One way to do this is to apologize to your mate when you hurt them, whether intentionally or not. You may sometimes be so focused on the ways they hurt you that you miss the pain you cause them. Rather than taking the role of a victim, take responsibility for your own careless or unconscious actions or thoughts. Once, on a camping trip with our three children when they were younger, Joyce and I were locked into blaming each other. The children were off playing, but painfully aware of our arguing. The moment Joyce and I took responsibility for our own parts of the argument, our faces relaxed into a smile, and we hugged each other. At that very moment, all three of our children applauded.

6. Communication about sex. Couples rarely talk about their sexual relationship, yet this area of the relationship needs the most tender and caring communication. If you sincerely incorporate the previous five ingredients into your relationship, you will notice an increased attraction between you. We suggest answering two questions as a great exercise: First, what is most beautiful about your partner’s sexuality, or your sexual relationship? It’s more appreciation, and specifically focused on sexuality. Second, what do you need, to allow your sexual relationship to be even more fulfilling? Start your answer with something like, “I love it when you …,” rather than “You need to …” Keeping it positive will go a long way.

7. Spiritual connection. Nothing is more important than cultivating a spiritual connection with your beloved. Exactly what is this? It’s understanding that there is something bigger than the personal love between the two of you. Call it what you will, God, Higher Power, Source, Universe, or Divine Love, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that you learn to trust this spiritual energy and ask for help. When Joyce and I got married, our different religions had caused us so much suffering that we simply threw it all out. We thought our personal love would be enough. It wasn’t; our batteries ran down, and we didn’t think to recharge them by plugging into a higher power source. Finally, we ran into serious trouble that threatened our marriage. This propelled each of us into a spiritual quest that eventually led us back together. Today, the most important thing we do each morning is to sit together and acknowledge the Divine Presence; to give thanks for all that we are given, and to ask for help with what faces us. Find your own unique way to plug in and recharge your batteries. Create REALationship.

Joyce & Barry Vissell, a nurse/therapist and psychiatrist couple since 1964, are counselors near Santa Cruz, CA, who are widely regarded as among the world’s top experts on conscious relationship and personal growth. They’re the authors of many inspirational books.

Call 831-684-2299, or write to the Shared Heart Foundation, P.O. Box 2140, Aptos, CA 95001, for further information on counseling sessions by phone or in person, their books, recordings, or their schedule of talks and workshops. Visit their website at SharedHeart.org for their free monthly e-heartletter, and inspiring past articles on many topics about relationship and living from the heart.

Imagine if we could completely trust that we are guided, protected, and completely loved by an unseen higher power, that all that happens is a gift bringing us closer to God and our angels. I imagine that life would be peaceful and joyful.

This complete trust is not easy for anyone. I started a practice to help me with this. Every day, I thank God for each opportunity to trust. Lately, a lot of these opportunities have been coming up, and it’s a challenge for me to remember to trust.

One year ago, I was driving Barry to his appointment for a partial knee replacement. This is no small surgery, and we were both nervous. Being medically trained, we’re always aware of the things that can go wrong. While driving, I mentioned to Barry that I wanted to give thanks for this opportunity to trust whatever happened on this day. I hoped I could see each event in the day as part of the gift of trusting, and he agreed.

We were a few minutes late for the 6 am appointment, so while I parked the car, Barry left to go inside. As he was walking away, I called after him, “Remember, I want to say a prayer for you right before surgery.” Barry thanked me and went through the door. I quickly parked the car and rushed inside. Barry was gone. As soon as he walked in the door they rushed him into the pre-op room. The woman behind the desk handed me a bunch of papers, and had me fill them out. As soon as I brought them back, I urgently said, “I really need to be with my husband. It’s important that I say a prayer for him right before he goes into surgery.”

“Yes, of course,” she said, “Just wait over there.” My desire was so strong for Barry to hear my prayer right before his surgery, that after 10 minutes I again went up and asked the woman behind the desk. “Yes, yes, just have a seat and we’ll call you.”

Forty-five minutes went by, and finally I was called. I practically ran into his room. He looked up at me with blurry drug-induced eyes, and could barely mumble. I questioned the anesthesiologist standing by him, who said, “Oh, we already started the anesthesia.” She then handed me another form to sign, and while I was signing it for Barry, they whisked him away. “What about my prayer for him,” I said as I went running after his stretcher. By the time I caught up, Barry was unconscious, and they slid him into the operating room and closed the door.

I returned to the car deeply disappointed. I had wanted to say a heartfelt prayer for Barry, and it was vitally important to me that he heard the prayer before the surgery. On the verge of tears, I remembered that I had told him that no matter what happened this day, we were going to trust. This was the place to start. I said my prayer for Barry out loud in the car, and I felt thankful for this opportunity to trust, even though it hadn’t gone the way I wanted.

The following months held other opportunities for trusting. He had an allergic reaction to every anti-inflammatory drug he took, and could hardly eat for weeks, losing much weight and strength. He also couldn’t tolerate pain medications. Throughout all of this we practiced trusting.

Now, one year later, Barry can walk without any pain. All the hardship of the surgery and recovery made him even more compassionate than he already was, and brought the two of us closer than we’ve ever been. We have greater appreciation of our remaining time and health.

Thanking God for every opportunity to trust is a powerful practice. This year has brought a loss of an important relationship in our lives. This isn’t something that we ever wanted, or could have foreseen, and it’s been very painful. Yet even in the midst of the pain I am reminded of this practice. Maybe we don’t understand something, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t give thanks for the opportunity to trust. It is gratitude that opens the door to a deeper trust.

I read about a woman who had to be evacuated from her home quickly since there was a massive fire racing toward her neighborhood. As she was fleeing from her home, she looked back, and saw the fire bearing down upon each home in her neighborhood. This woman was also practicing giving thanks for opportunities to trust. In her car, she gave thanks to God aloud for giving her this opportunity to practice full trust. She then drove away, and assumed her home of 25 years would be gone for good. Two days later she received a call from the fire department. By a complete miracle her home was the only one still standing! Nothing was disturbed by the fire. Was this just a random coincidence, or was this due to her act of complete thankfulness and trust? No one will ever know of course, yet for that woman, her trust was greatly deepened.

Things are never going to go just the way we want them. Friends can betray us, illnesses can come, accidents can happen, and any number of other painful things. The act of giving thanks for each opportunity to trust can see us through the most difficult of times, help to bring peace, and remind us that we are all here on the earth to learn, love, help others, and remember to trust.

Joyce & Barry Vissell, a nurse/therapist and psychiatrist couple since 1964, are counselors near Santa Cruz, CA, who are widely regarded as among the world’s top experts on conscious relationship and personal growth. They are the authors of many inspirational books.

Call 831-684-2299, or write to the Shared Heart Foundation, P.O. Box 2140, Aptos, CA 95001, for further information on counseling sessions by phone or in person, their books, recordings, or their schedule of talks and workshops. Visit their website at SharedHeart.org for their free monthly e-heartletter, and inspiring past articles on many topics about relationship and living from the heart.

Do you ever feel unworthy to receive good things in your life? It’s not an easy question to answer. Some of you are in touch with your feelings of not deserving. Some of you are not. I daresay that feelings of unworthiness are present in most of us, although we might not be aware of them. The first step in overcoming these feelings is to become aware of them. This can’t only be a mental process. Feelings of unworthiness need to be recognized and felt, before healing can happen.

Joyce and I see many people in our counseling practice who deny any feelings of unworthiness. These same people show some of the classic signs of unworthiness: difficulty asking for what they need, most forms of procrastination, resistance to lifestyle improvement, not taking good enough care of themselves, or problems with addiction. There are many times we resist something good simply because we don’t believe we deserve it.

Where do these feelings of unworthiness come from? Our childhood can hold some important clues. In a previous article, “How We Internalize Blame” (on our website, SharedHeart.org), I wrote about a violent act by my mother, and the message given to me that her violence was my fault. I learned that I deserved violence … not helpful! But I very much needed to become aware of this feeling, before I could learn on a feeling level that no child deserves violence.

I also learned in my childhood that love was conditional. I needed to earn love by being extra good. So as an adult, and a doctor/psychotherapist, the more I helped people, the more good I did in the world, the more I deserved to be happy (or so I unconsciously thought), yet this never worked because it was a flawed concept. About 20 years ago, at a couples’ retreat at Rowe Conference Center in Massachusetts, I vulnerably shared these feelings. Scott Kalechstein Grace, our musician and assistant, suggested I experiment with lying on one of the couches in the back of the room and completely letting go of leading the workshop. He said, “Don’t worry, Joyce and I can lead the workshop just fine.” Just then, an older man suggested I lie with my head in his lap so he could “father” me, and keep giving me the message that I was perfectly worthy without having to do a thing, without having to prove my worthiness.

It was a fabulous experience! I really let go. Even though I only lay there for maybe 20 minutes, I returned with a whole new feeling of worthiness that did not depend on doing anything. I became a human being rather than a human doing. It’s simply not possible to earn love or happiness. Love and happiness are our birthright.

The healing of unworthiness lies in understanding our dual nature. I’ve said this before, and it’s worth saying again: we are both human beings having a spiritual experience, AND we are spiritual beings having a human experience. If we identify with only one, and push away the other, we delay our healing of unworthiness. If we’re only human beings having a spiritual experience, we become too identified with our unworthiness, and so cannot let it go. If we’re only spiritual beings having a human experience, we risk minimizing or even denying our human feelings, including unworthiness.

Healing our unworthiness depends on our acceptance of our humanity and our divinity. Here’s an example. Many years ago, Ram Dass lived close to us and was an important teacher for us. He was writing a book about his guru, and had not spoken in public in many months. He received an invitation to speak at a local college, the University of California-Santa Cruz. We saw him the day of the talk. He admitted to us that he felt more nervous than he had in many years. He felt unworthy to speak as a teacher to so many people, and he had been praying deeply for divine help.

Joyce and I went to the talk that evening. We told him later that it was the best talk he had ever given. He actually agreed. He said he was more in touch with his humanity, and his unworthiness, than ever before. As a result, he also opened more to his divinity, and his need for divine help.

One of my heroes is Saint Francis, a man who was intimate with his unworthiness. He actually took unworthiness to a whole new level. He often stood in the Piazza del Comune, the village square in Assisi, dressed in rags, and acting like a fool. Even now he is still referred to as “the Fool of God.” People called him names, and spit at him. Children threw rocks at him. All the while, he thanked God for the bad treatment. He actually celebrated his unworthiness! Was he a masochist? Not at all. He felt so close to his beloved Jesus while he was being abused. He became completely identified with Christ, who suffered even worse abuse. As a result, Francis also rose into a spiritual ecstasy, into a true awareness of his divine worthiness, and his full divinity.

Okay, maybe it’s a bit of a stretch to celebrate your unworthiness, yet you can accept these feelings as part of accepting your full human condition. Only then can you more fully accept your divine condition, and open to your original worthiness. We have always been worthy. We are all divine beings too. Nothing we have ever done, or could ever do, can take away our inherent worthiness. Yes, we all make mistakes, some very big ones. Yet we are not our mistakes; we are sparks of the one divine light. We deserve all the good the universe has to offer. When we know our worthiness, we are then free to give all of our love, and make our dreams come true.

Joyce & Barry Vissell, a nurse/therapist and psychiatrist couple since 1964, are counselors near Santa Cruz, CA, who are widely regarded as among the world's top experts on conscious relationship and personal growth. They are the authors of many inspirational books.

January 21, 2017 will long be remembered as the day of the women’s marches. It is so inspiring that (men and) women from each continent participated, including Antarctica! We just watched a women’s march that took place in Israel, in which Jewish and Arab women marched together. We couldn’t read their signs, but I can only imagine that they all wanted peace. There seems to have been such a feeling of joy within these marches.

Barry and I had scheduled our second mentorship four-day session during this time, not knowing that these marches would be taking place. I woke up that morning feeling that something special must be done to honor all of the women and men marching all over the world, and somehow join in their energy. So, Barry and I and the nine women in our group sat at our dining room table and made our own signs, using large pieces of paper, crayons, markers, and colored pencils. We asked each woman to express the deepest feeling they would put on their sign, as if they would be on display in Washington, DC.

When the signs were finished, we went into the living room, and each person stood up with their sign and told us why the words were so meaningful to them. In this way, each person gave a little talk which was inspiring, and also insightful as to who they are, and their deepest values.

My sign was quite simple and said, “Love one another as I have loved you–Jesus.” I’ve always loved this quote, and my mother repeated it to me often when I was growing up. Jesus loved all people. They didn’t have to be his own Jewish religion for him to love them and reach out to help. He gave water to a non-Jewish woman at a well, which was forbidden to do. He helped a prostitute and saw goodness in her, so that she wanted to change her life and follow him. He had dinner at a tax collector’s house, a man that everyone despised. He invited another tax collector to be one of his followers. His own disciples criticized him for opening his heart and love to so many different types of people that others were shunning. His response was that he came to help all; a true sense of equality. Equality and love for all beings is what I want to march for.

Barry was the last to hold up his sign, which we all loved. “I am a man dedicated to making it safe for all women.” Truly this is who Barry is. Can you imagine a world in which more men could hold up a sign like that and truly mean it? I posted Barry holding his sign on my Facebook page, and I’m pleased with how far this photo went. It’s a message that’s needed at this time.

After each person spoke about their sign, we then marched around our living room holding our signs, singing a powerful song. We felt connected to everyone who was marching in the streets around the world.

Did the marches all over the world do any good?

Forty-eight years ago, Barry and I were in one of the first civil rights marches in the south. We lived in Nashville, Tennessee at the time, and we heard about a march several hours away in the deeper rural south. We, along with our friend Jim, were excited to go and participate. We reached this small southern town, and Dick Gregory was the organizer and speaker. There were many blacks, and we were the only whites. We were welcomed, yet told it was more dangerous for us whites. We marched with these poor blacks down the streets of the town. The whites looking on yelled and cursed at us, and some threw things. It was loud, and scary, as we continued down the street, then it became violent. The police came and started using clubs and arresting people. One of the organizers told us to leave quickly, as they would be the hardest on us. Like Harry Potter and the invisible cloak, we left undetected, and drove home realizing that we had placed ourselves in a very dangerous situation. There must have been TV coverage of the march, for the next day I was called into my place of work as a public health nurse, and told I could never march again, or I would lose my job, and never be able to get another one in the city.

One march… Did it do any good? Was our effort and putting ourselves in danger worth it? I like to think it was. True, it was only a drop in the bucket of what had to happen, yet it was a drop, and we participated in that drop. Forty years later, our country proudly elected our first black president. All of those marches, all of those signs, all of that effort in the end truly paid off.

What would your sign say? As a good practice, sit at your dining room table with crayons or markers and paper, and make a sign that holds your deepest feeling about what is going on right now in our world. Make it positive, inspiring, and loving, something you could show your children, and explain why you wrote what you did. You could also sit with a group of friends and create your signs together, or sit with your children and talk about them. Your sign, and especially how you live the truth of what it says, will place another drop into the bucket of what’s needed right now.

Joyce & Barry Vissell, a nurse/therapist and psychiatrist couple since 1964, are counselors near Santa Cruz, CA, who are widely regarded as among the world's top experts on conscious relationship and personal growth. They are the authors of many inspirational books.

Call 831-684-2299, or write the Shared Heart Foundation, P.O. Box 2140, Aptos, CA 95001, for further information on counseling sessions by phone or in person, their books, recordings, or their schedule of talks and workshops. Visit their website at SharedHeart.org for their monthly e-heartletter, and inspiring past articles on many topics about relationship and living from the heart.

There are popular feelings: joy, happiness, love, and affection, to name a few… then there are unpopular feelings: anger, sadness, grief, hurt, and fear, among others. Most of us tend to hide the unpopular feelings, and instead, only feel and show the popular ones.

If we want integrity and wholeness in our lives, we must embrace all of our feelings. Picking and choosing simply won’t work. Believe me, I’ve tried it plenty, and soon I’ll tell you what happened to me.

Remember, there are no good or bad feelings. There are just feelings. They make us divinely human and humanly divine. It may not be necessary to express them all with others, but we need to be aware of them within ourselves. Feelings are part of our experience here on Earth. Our feelings don’t define us. As souls in our bodies, we are always more than our feelings, yet they are vital.

Joyce and I recently remembered a powerful experience I had starting out as a resident in psychiatry. I was especially fixated on only feeling…and showing…the above-mentioned popular feelings. I was able to fool a lot of people by my appearance of unswerving peace and happiness. I was not able to fool two persons in particular. One was Joyce; she always saw what I really felt. She saw right through my false pretense, even when I didn’t. She knew when I was angry, even though I was smiling. She knew when I was sad, even when I had no clue.

The other person I could never fool was Leo Buscaglia, the author of many books on love, and our friend while we lived in Los Angeles during my final two years of medical school. He was not polite with me. If I wasn’t being genuine, he’d get right in my face and say, “Barry, you’re being phony right now!” I actually appreciated his candor, and felt the “tough love” in his honesty. Unfortunately, when we moved up to Portland for my residency training, I hadn’t yet learned how to be genuine with my feelings.

That was about to change. Early on in my psychiatry training, the first-year residents, eleven of us and our spouses, were required to attend a five-day intensive led by Lee Fine, a master-teacher of psychodrama. I should add that the year was 1973, and a significant part of the five days would be better termed “Encounter Group.”

All of the participants became vulnerable, showed their fears, their sadness, their grief over losses in their lives. One resident went over the top in the expression of his vulnerability, and described, through his tears, coming home from school as a child and discovering his father hanging in the garage.

I showed no vulnerability, no fear, no pain. Instead, I presented myself with a smile on my face and peace in my life. Some of the residents were gentle and compassionate in their probing for my depth. Yet my smiling mask never faltered. Looking back at my level of emotional immaturity, it’s embarrassing to me now.

One by one, all the residents came around me and began confronting me. Each, in their own way, asked me to be more genuine and honest with my feelings.

One resident asked, “How can I feel close to you if you’re pretending to be happy all the time?”

Another said, “It looks like you’re hiding behind a mask.”

Another blurted out angrily, “It’s pissing me off how phony you’re being right now!”

Still, I remained frozen in my phony happiness. I wasn’t able to access my “unpopular” feelings.

So, the confrontation escalated. Some of the residents were angry at my apparent resistance. Forget psychodrama; this was pure 1970s encounter group. I was sitting on the floor while all 10 residents stood above me. I felt real compassion coming from some of them.

Finally, something broke inside me. I wasn’t strong enough to withstand the mixed barrage of love and anger. I started crying…then sobbing. I had flashes of being a little boy and not wanting my tormentors in the tough neighborhood in Brooklyn to know that I was scared and hurt. I learned to show the world how strong I was. I learned that my vulnerability couldn’t be trusted with anyone else; it was me against the world.

In that moment of the workshop, I felt completely vulnerable with 10 psychiatry residents. Now they could pounce on me and finish me off; I was defenseless.

But that didn’t happen. When I opened my eyes, I saw the gentlest, most caring faces looking down at me. I saw loving fathers, mothers, siblings and friends. I heard gentle compassion in their words. I felt accepted…and acceptable. It was a moment of coming-out as a sensitive, vulnerable human being.

It was also a turning point in my life. From that moment on, I knew my spiritual and human growth depended on my opening to all of my feelings. I have accepted this as essential. I’m far from perfect at identifying my feelings; it’s hard work. Sometimes, when I need Joyce’s love, I push her away instead. Sometimes, when I feel hurt, I still rationalize and talk myself out of the feeling. Yet I do recognize that, because I am committed to feeling all of my feelings, I am becoming a better counselor, teacher, husband, father…and person.

Joyce & Barry Vissell, a nurse/therapist and psychiatrist couple since 1964, are counselors near Santa Cruz, CA, who are widely regarded as among the world's top experts on conscious relationship and personal growth. They are the authors of many inspirational books.

Visit their website at SharedHeart.org for their free monthly e-heartletter, and inspiring past articles on many topics about relationship and living from the heart.

In 1960, I was 14 years old, and my mother was the first civil rights activist that I knew. She did not march in the streets; she lived her beliefs. She had blacks, Muslims, gays and other minorities over to our house for dinner almost every Sunday. She treated them all with the greatest respect and honor like they were part of her family. She also spoke up loudly if anyone said anything against any of these minorities. She often coached me, “Joyce, remember that every person is a child of God. It doesn’t matter what their skin color is, or their religion. Our God loves them all the same.” This love of humanity and human rights is something that my mother passed on to me, one of the many gifts I’ve received being her daughter; in this way, she was one of my heroes.

This same year, there was a crisis for one of my uncles. He and his family lived close to us in Buffalo, New York, in a quiet, simple, middle-class neighborhood. He learned that a black family was going to move into the neighborhood, about 10 houses down from his house. My uncle was livid and complained bitterly to anyone who would listen. He felt it would ruin his neighborhood, and make it unsafe for his children, as well as bring down the value of his home. He spent great time and effort visiting every single neighbor and explaining the terrible result that would happen if this family moved in. He gathered signatures, and if a neighbor did not want to sign his petition, he repeatedly went back to that house until they did sign.

After much time and effort, he was ready to go the house of this black family and give them the petition. He got dressed in a suit and tie, and armed with pages of signatures, went to the house and rang the bell. A very large, powerfully-built black man answered the door. My uncle quickly hid the petition behind his back, and held out his hand to welcome the man. You see, this man was my uncle’s hero on the Buffalo Bills’ football team.

Several years ago, at our Hawaii couples retreat, there was a man, who I will call Joe, who looked with disdain at the local people who lived in the area. Joe was a CEO of a large company on the mainland, described himself often as “a very important man,” and felt that these “hippies” were lazy and worthless. Many of these locals had long unruly hair, colorful clothing, and were typically gathered at the beach drumming, dancing, juggling, or fire spinning. Joe spoke often about how much he disliked them, even though he hardly ever saw them, and had no idea what they did when they weren’t at the beach.

One day Joe went to the beach alone without any of our group with him. There’s a steep trail that must be climbed down to get to the beach. It’s not necessarily dangerous, but one must be careful. When it was time for Joe to leave the beach, he started climbing the trail, but slipped and fell, dislocating his knee. Joe lay there helpless and in enormous pain. Very soon, one of these “good-for-nothing locals” spotted him lying there in pain and ran to help. When this long-haired young man discovered the extent of Joe’s injury, he ran to get some friends, and together the men carried him all the way to the top of the cliff, which is quite a journey, especially carrying someone in pain. They put Joe in a car and drove him all the way back to the retreat center, helped him into his bed, and then notified the retreat center that he was hurt. Fortunately, one of our group members was an emergency room physician, and he pulled Joe’s knee back into position again. Joe was deeply humbled, and to our whole group he stated, “I have been so wrong in judging these locals just because of their hair and lifestyle choices. When I really needed heroes, they stepped in and helped me.”

When my mother was 87, three years before she died, she lived in a little apartment above our garage. She believed in exercise, and each day when it was not raining, she drove her little car to the beach and walked along the sidewalk. At that time at Rio del Mar beach, there was a group of homeless men who would sit on the wall at the entrance to the beach. These men sat there all day and talked together. My mother learned their names, and each day would stop and talk with them. Soon they asked her if she would like to sit on the wall with them, and she gladly accepted, sitting with them for maybe a half hour each day. She liked them very much, and truly enjoyed their company. After a few months, they asked if she would like to be an official member of the “Wall Sitters’ Club.” My mother accepted and felt it was an honor to be included in their conversations.

One day some ladies from her church walked by as my mother was laughing with the men. The ladies were shocked to see my mother there, and even though she wanted to introduce them, the ladies rushed on by. Later that day my mother received a call from one of these ladies who said, “Louise, you must be careful, and you should not sit on the wall with those men. They are homeless, and could cause danger to you.” My mother replied, “I trust that God loves them just as much as He loves you and me. Those men have given me the gift of their friendship, and I am giving it back.”

There’s the potential for a hero and a friend within each person we meet, regardless of their skin color, their religion, their sexual orientation, or the fact that they are a minority. We are all God’s precious children.

Joyce & Barry Vissell, a nurse/therapist and psychiatrist couple since 1964, are counselors near Santa Cruz, CA, who are widely regarded as among the world's top experts on conscious relationship and personal growth. They are the authors of many inspirational books.

Write to the Shared Heart Foundation, P.O. Box 2140, Aptos, CA 95001, for further information on counseling sessions by phone or in person, their books, recordings, or their schedule of talks and workshops. Visit their website at SharedHeart.org for their free monthly e-heartletter, their updated schedule, and inspiring past articles on many topics about relationship and living from the heart.

What if Joyce dies before me? This is one of my greatest vulnerabilities.

Sure, I could die first. Statistically, women live longer than men; yet this is not my vulnerability. My dying first brings up other feelings, like abandoning my true love; not being there to help her when she needs me. Of course, I know I’ll always be there for her, just without a body. I have full faith that in the realm of soul, I’ll be even more present for her, without the distractions here on earth.

Even though we’re both healthy in the important ways, we are still 70 years old. We are now in our senior years. Death of our bodies is no longer something that can be ignored.

Why is Joyce’s passing such a deep vulnerability for me? It’s because of how much I need her. In our early years together, I tried hard not to need her. I was fine with loving her. But need, that’s a different story. To need Joyce would prove my inadequacy as a human being; yet need her I did. Eventually I could no longer fool myself; I had to face my inadequacy, my dependence, my weakness. I received a bonus; by accepting my dependence on Joyce, I am becoming a stronger man (yes, it’s an ongoing work). By pushing away my need, I was weakening myself. By pushing away my humanity, I was also pushing away my spirituality. It’s a package deal; you can’t have one without the other.

With fuller awareness of my need for Joyce, and opening to the fully human part of me, the thought of her death is a scary thing. In my deepest vulnerability, I feel like a lost child, unprotected by the warmth of Joyce’s tender love. I see myself wandering the earth, unprotected by her loving arms, and making decisions without her feminine wisdom.

My higher mind knows I can survive, even thrive. I know I will call upon her soul night and day, maintaining a spiritual connection. My soul knows our profound connection cannot be lost after one person’s transition.

The grief I envision is not only the grief of a child; it is also my adult self that would dearly miss my best friend in all the world. On a recent solo backpacking trip, I saw more clearly the joy that Joyce brings to my life. It’s even in her name! When I’m alone, I’m more serious. I have peace, quiet, and contentment, but not joy. The joy comes from being with Joyce.

Some of the happiest moments of our lives together have been in nature. Not just being together, but sharing God’s natural beauty with my beloved. When I see Joyce being thrilled by a stunning sunset, or the reflected light on a pool of water, my own heart is more thrilled by her reaction than what we are observing. How I would miss that!

I would miss our physical togetherness. We have a special ritual before going to sleep every night; we call it “pit time.” We’ve done it for decades. I raise my arm, and she snuggles into my armpit with her leg around mine. It’s delightfully comforting for both of us. I would especially miss our sexual connection, the wonderful union of our bodies; yet I would miss just as much the little physical connections, holding hands while walking or praying, and all the little touches we give one another.

I would deeply miss the way she “plays” with me; she teases me with such sensitivity and love. A few weeks ago, we were leading a workshop in Assisi, Italy. I was telling the group about a special place we were about to visit. I said, “And if we’re lucky, we can be there at a time when there are no tourists.” Joyce caught a subtle expression of distaste on my face, a slightly wrinkled nose, and a quick downward pointing gesture of my fingers, when I said the word tourists. It was so quick that no one else in the room seemed to notice. Joyce could have ignored it, but it was too rich a moment. She stopped me, and pointed out what I had done, in a way that helped me see the humor in my actions. It became a precious moment for the whole group, as it illuminated an unconscious judgement I held for tourists. It became a delightful inside joke for the whole group. We began to notice and bless those wonderful throngs of tourists who mingled with us during outings, while many in the group mimicked my wrinkled nose and downward pointing fingers. I loved it all!

I occasionally practice a very unusual meditation, one that I wholeheartedly recommend that everyone practice with a loved one. I face my worst fear, that of Joyce dying. I let it play out as a conscious nightmare; I see it happening; I let myself go through all five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and finally acceptance. I feel as deeply as possible my life without Joyce, alone in our bed without “pit time,” eating meals alone, coming home to an empty house, and trying to take care of her beloved rose bushes without her loving touch.

To end there would be only a morbid meditation. The next step in the meditation is crucial: I then open to her ever-present soul. I feel her pouring her love into me night and day without end. I feel her more with me than ever, undistracted by her busy life on earth. This gives me great comfort. It is after these special meditations that I approach my beloved Joyce with more openness, vulnerability, and love than usual. My appreciation of her has blossomed, and she thoroughly delights in it.

Joyce & Barry Vissell, a nurse/therapist and psychiatrist couple since 1964, are counselors near Santa Cruz, CA, who are widely regarded as among the world's top experts on conscious relationship and personal growth. They are the authors of many inspirational books. Write to the Shared Heart Foundation, P.O. Box 2140, Aptos, CA 95001, for further information on counseling sessions by phone or in person, their books, recordings, or their schedule of talks and workshops. Visit their website at: SharedHeart.org for their free monthly e-heartletter, their updated schedule, and inspiring past articles on many topics about relationship and living from the heart.

Those nine words by the late Ted Geisel (Dr. Seuss), one of our country's favorite storytellers, contain so much wisdom. They apply to many different aspects of life, and I would like to focus on relationships. Most of us are going to have relationships end at some point in our lives, whether they’re marriages, partners, friends, relatives, or any other type of relationship. People leave, or die, and it hurts. What to do with the hurt?

A person we know had a relationship end in a hurtful way. This individual is so hurt, and doesn’t know how to handle the pain of this situation. The feeling of rejection seems overwhelming. The other person has walked away and there’s no negotiation. For this person, it’s over, and there is no desire for contact.

Many people are stuck in the feeling that "it’s over." The way out of the pain is to remember the good, and feel grateful. The feeling of gratitude will open a door to your heart, and allow the feeling of love to enter. When a person ruminates on the details of the ending, they stay in the pain, and it can become worse with time. The best thing to do is to feel gratitude. Write down the things you can appreciate about having been with this person; and sending the list to the person (if they’re still alive) can be very healing. In this way you are transitioning the relationship in a very conscious and loving way. If the person never responds to your letter and expression of gratitude, you have at least reached out. The expressed gratitude will free you to go on with your life, and even open up to a new relationship or friendship. There’s that great saying, "When one door closes, another door opens."

One of my very favorite stories is from the late Leo Buscaglia, who was my teacher at USC in 1971 when I was 25 years old. I was in his master's degree course, and most of my classes were with him. He was beyond wonderful, and taught me many valuable lessons that I still cherish to this day. My favorite class was a non-credit class called, "LOVE 1A." Anyone in the university could attend the class. About 50 students came each week. He was the only professor teaching this subject in a university in the United States. Those of us who chose to attend the class absolutely loved it. He was teaching us how to reach out and really love people in a heartfelt way. He had wonderful ideas and could back them up with great literature. His favorite book was The Little Prince. He had us practice appreciating people, seeing beauty in each other, expressing gratitude, and writing letters to our families with messages of love. There was such a beautiful energy in the room in each class, that I felt as if I could float, I felt so high and happy.

He was the first person to acknowledge that my sensitivity was a beautiful thing, and that he appreciated that side of me very much. Until he spoke to me in that way, I had felt ashamed of my sensitive nature. He had a way of acknowledging his students and, sometimes, as in my case, he saw beauty and strength where others saw weakness. Those of us in the class were opening up so beautifully with his teachings.

One day I had an appointment at his office at the university. While I waited for him, I couldn’t help but overhear the voices of three men that had come to meet with him before me. They spoke in loud, harsh voices, and told Leo that he couldn’t teach his love class anymore. They told him it was an embarrassment to the university, and he had to stop immediately; this was nonnegotiable. They walked out soon after that. I felt so sad for my beloved teacher; here he was giving of himself on his free time to teach this wonderful class, and it was rejected. He must feel so hurt.

I walked into his office, and tried to think of how I might cheer him up. Indeed, he looked very sad; yet his words surprised me, "I feel so sad for those three men that were just here. I have so much love to give, and they don’t want it." His sadness wasn’t for himself, but for those university officials. He saw what they were missing by rejecting what he had to offer.

Shortly after that, Leo left the university. I don’t know if he was asked to leave, or if he just left. He went on to become one of the most popular speakers in the world, with crowds of over 10,000 people at each talk. He gave his love class to the world, and they received it with great enthusiasm. At one time five of his books were on The New York Times Best Sellers List simultaneously.

Whenever I start to feel rejected by someone, I think of Leo and his words, "I feel so sad for them, as I have so much love to give." I also think of Dr. Seuss's advice to all of us, "Smile that it happened." Acknowledging that we are beautiful, have much love to give, as well as expressing gratitude, can bring a person out of the pain of seeming rejection.

Joyce & Barry Vissell, a nurse/therapist and psychiatrist couple since 1964, are counselors near Santa Cruz, CA, who are widely regarded as among the world's top experts on conscious relationship and personal growth. They are the authors of six books. Visit their website at: SharedHeart.org for their free monthly e-heartletter, their updated schedule, and inspiring past articles on many topics about relationship and living from the heart.